


Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

by whitebeltwriter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Light Angst, Swearing, Underage Drinking, case in point: Jasper, tho that's kinda the norm for this show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitebeltwriter/pseuds/whitebeltwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x05 Spoilers</p><p>After the Guard Massacre, Clarke hides in her room drinking and Lexa says she's had enough.<br/>Comforting ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

Returning to Polis after the absolute _tragedy_ that was the trip to Arkadia, Clarke immediately retreated to her quarters and requested two things from the guards.

Privacy and whatever alcohol they could get their hands on.

When they delivered, for who were they to question Wanheda, they were thanked and sent away, the closing of the door forestalling any argument.

Four hours later a servant knocked and asked if Wanheda would like some food.

Clarke declined and instead called for more alcohol, which she received.

The next servant to knock hours later was greeted only with silence. He presumed her to be asleep and left.

The servant returned the next morning and his inquiry was answered by the sound of something shattering against the door.

The servants wished to let her be after that. Heda said otherwise, and so they continued to knock.

Eighteen hours after returning to Polis, Clarke still had not emerged from her room and Lexa was reasonably worried.

The Commander would usually grant the newest ambassador the space she required, and had specifically demanded; at least for a few days.

But the demand of alcohol coupled with a lack of food and recent events left her feeling very troubled.

If asked, Lexa would claim she was concerned for the health of Wanheda because relations with Skaikru were bad enough without their ambassador coming to harm under her watch.

In truth, she only cared about Clarke.

Twenty-four hours, and three scared servants later, the brunette decided enough was enough.

Carrying a tray laden with a flagon of water, bread rolls, apples, and cheese, Heda marched to the blonde’s door and knocked.

Something thudded against the door before clanging to the ground.

Ignoring the obvious answer, Lexa opened the door, balancing the tray on her arm, and entered into what smelled like a small brewery.

And looked like the store of a used bottle merchant.

Littered about the room were at least a dozen, if not more, bottles of varying sizes; large green ones, small clear ones, and medium sized fat ones bound with cords; they were standing on tables, rolling on the floor, and all were alarmingly empty.

Pushing the door open further caused a crinkling sound which revealed itself to be the remains of a broken bottle, thrown at the door while still containing liquor, evidently, and a knife whose pommel matched the newest dent to the back of the door.

Stepping all the way in, Lexa had barley closed the door when a scratchy voice called out from somewhere ahead of her.

“Does throwin’ things mean 'com’ in' in Polis? ‘Cause where I com' from it means 'go ‘way.'”

Finally spying the top of Clarke’s head in the chair facing away from the door, Heda replied, “Did you also try to drink yourselves to death on the Ark, or are you trying to create a new tradition?”

A head of blonde hair twisted around as the Skaikru girl attempted to see her uninvited guest without actually getting up.

“ _Lexa!_ ” Clarke unexpectedly cheered, her facing splitting with a drunken grin, “Now i’sa party! C’mon in! All murd’rers are welcome here!” She gestured recklessly with the bottle in her hand, spilling some of its contents.

The brunette advanced into the room, putting more care into not showing how much the blonde’s words concerned her than she did into avoiding the bottles littering the floor, letting her feet scatter them with every step.

Striding past Clarke, Lexa placed the tray onto the small table before her chair, sliding the three bottles standing atop it perilously close to the edge. Straightening up, the Commander turned to the Skaikru Ambassador and got a good look at her for the first time since their return to Polis.

She did not like what she saw.

Clarke’s hair was even more tangled then before, the remnants of what may have been puke clinging to some strands. She had since removed not only her boots and socks but also her jacket, wearing only a ribbed tank top and her pants. And though she was splayed out in the chair as if boneless with a wide grin on her face, the smile never reached her eyes, which from where Lexa stood seemed at once dull and maniacal.

Her eyes startled Heda so much that her leg bumped into the table, jarring it enough that one of the bottles wobbled before inevitably tipping over and shattering against the hard floor.

“Uh oh,” Clarke giggled, “You broke a bot~tle! _T_ _e he he he!_ ”

Lexa could only stare; her jaw slacked with shock. She had never heard Clarke laugh before, but she was sure that the sounds coming from the blonde now were wrong.

 _Very_ wrong.

Overcoming her giggling fit, she continued, “Don’ worry, Lex, I break’em too. I break a lot o’ things actually…” Her grin faded slightly.

“Clarke,” Lexa began carefully, “How about you have some foo-”

“I’ve been sittin’ here, thinkin’, ‘bout a lot of stuff, Heda,” Clarke interrupted, “’Bout stuff I did, stuff I did’n’ do, and you kno’ what I realized?”

“Clarke, this isn’t a good-“

“I realized I’ma fuck up!” Clarke sadly cheered, completely ignoring Lexa and continuing to swing her bottle around. “I am da biggest fuck up to ever fall outta the sky!”

“No you’re no-“

“Yes!” she stated, stabbing the bottleneck towards Lexa for emphasis, “Yes I am! I am a fuck up! A murd’rer! I. Am. Wanheda! B’cause whoever I command winds up dead!”

Lexa raised her hands pleadingly, trying to calm Clarke down.

“Clarke, that’s not true,” she said taking a step forward.

“YES IT IS!” the blonde yelled as she lurched unsteadily to her feet. “Death follows wherever I go! I come to Earth, people die ‘soon as we land. I launched a flare, a whole village burned! Blew up a bridge with people on it! Burned your warriors. Finn massacres a v’llage looking for me and I wind up killin’ him! I pissed off the Mountain, they bomb Tondc. I don’ warn anyone, ‘cept you! I burned 300 people just to save f’rty! I join the Co'lition and my kru kills a whole army in retaliation!” Her chest began to heave, and Lexa could only watch, feeling powerless to stop Clarke’s tirade against herself.

Watched as her face cracked along with her voice.

“I told…my _best_ friend…about my Dad’s plan to warn the Ark…and caused my Mom to 'ave to float 'er own husband…”

What little mask Clarke had remaining, shattered like the bottle on the floor as her tears began to fall, though she made no move to wipe them away.

But with each tear that fell, Lexa’s heart shattered as well.

“Pe’ple die when I’m in charge; when I get ‘nvolved,” the blonde sniffled. “No one died when I left. Everythin’ was fine– _sniff_ –“ Clarke’s face, which had bowed out of Lexa’s sight when the tears began to make it crumple, slowly revealed itself again as she looked up; and though tears still made their way down her cheeks, the rest of her face had re-hardened itself into a new mask that could only be called "fury".

“Everythin’ was fine…until you brought me back,” she stated quietly.

Before Lexa could fully comprehend what was happening, Clarke threw the bottle at her; only her reflexes enabled her to knock it away before it hit, sending it flying across the room.

The enraged blonde was on her before it had even landed, arms flailing wild hits at Lexa while she snarled at her.

“WHY DID YOU BRING ME BACK? WHY DID’N’ YOU JUST LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE!”

Lexa deflected her blows as best she could; Clarke’s technique was sloppy at best but she was hitting with everything she had.

“Clarke, stop!”

“PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE OF ME, LEXA! I AM THE COMMANDER OF DEATH! DO YOU GET THAT?! DEATH!”

Clarke continued to advance on Lexa, even as the brunette began to back away and attempt to circle around her.

“WHY BRING ME HERE? WHY NOT JUST LET ME DIE-“

“ _Enough!_ ” Lexa yelled. Charging forward she tackled the blonde’s midriff, knocking the wind out of her, and landing the both of them atop of Clarke’s bed. Before she could recover, the Commander wrapped her arms and legs tightly around Clarke, rendering her immobilized. The blonde writhed and raged against Lexa’s grip, but the brunette’s muscles were too strong.

But still she tried.

 _“Shof op!”_ the Commander growled, only half surprised when Clarke actually seemed to listen, _“Nou mou.”_

Chest still heaving, the blonde at least stopped fighting Lexa, though the brunette didn’t dare lift her head up enough to see what kind of expression was on the other girl’s face, her own resting upon Clarke’s shoulder.

“Now you listen to me; don’t you _ever_ talk about throwing your life away again! I refuse to let you punish yourself for things that are over and done with and I will _definitely_ not allow you to hurt yourself for things that are _not your fault!”_

“Yes it-“

“Quiet!” Lexa barked, squeezing Clarke harder for a second, “I am not finished. Yes, you have killed my warriors in the past and yes, you did burn the mountain but those actions were in the defense of your people, and if you hadn’t _they_ would be dead. Feel guilty all you like about those deaths but drinking yourself to death will change _nothing_.”

Clarke remained still. Lexa took a deep breath.

“Listen to me; I understand–probably better than anyone–what it feels like to lose those you swore to protect. To make decisions that seem like they will haunt you till the end of your days and most likely will. To feel like bashing your head against a wall until it’s stained with your blood because _you failed._

“But you can’t. Because the decision has been made. Because lives have been lost. Because the dead are gone and the living are hungry and you _must keep going_.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you came down from the stars for a reason and I _know_ it is to be so much more than Wanheda. Just like I know that the massacre outside of Arkadia was not your fault.”

“…If I hadn’-“

“-Did you tell Pike to ambush my soldiers? Did you tell Bellamy to give him the guns to do it? Did you tell _anyone_ to do _anything?_ No? Then how is it _your_ fault?”

“But Bell’my said-“

“Bellamy can get himself floated! That boy murdered two hundred and ninety-nine of my people and that is the fault of him and those who were with him. Not. You!”

Her own chest heaving now, Lexa tried to center herself while she waited for Clarke’s response.

Getting nothing but a small hiccup, Lexa risked raising her head to look Clarke in the face, and nearly crumpled to see her face showing silent anguish, her eyes squeezed shut but tears dripping from them nonetheless.

Unwrapping her arms from around the blonde’s torso, the brunette oh so carefully cradled the crying girl’s face with one hand, her palm barely grazing tearstained cheeks.

“Clarke…please…”

What Lexa was asking, pleading for, she couldn’t say.

She only knew that if she didn’t get it, she would be devastated.

Slowly, bit by bit, sky-blue eyes edged with red revealed themselves to forest green, as a cheek leaned towards a comforting hand.

“It hurts,” Clarke choked out.

“I know. And I am forever sorry to have caused you so much pain. But you can’t let it beat you; can’t let it eat you alive. You have to fight. Or else you are truly lost.”

“Don’ thin’ I can.”

“If you can be stubborn enough to not let me be killed by a pauna, then I can be stubborn enough to get you through this. _Nami?"_

At that Clarke cracks a smile.

It’s small. Watery. Fragile.

But it’s a start.

"Will you please drink some water? Have a little food?"

Clarke looks at her. Her eyes flickered drunkenly between each of Lexa's until...

"...Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Got it into my head that after being so thoroughly crushed by Bellamy's words (and for that I say fuck you B) and shame at what her people have done (again) that Clarke would just be done with it all and just start drinking and come to certain conclusions that Drunk!Clarke would absolutely say aloud to Lexa's face.  
> It's almost 3:30 in the morning why the fuck am I writing this shit.  
> I don't even know man.  
> I don't.  
> Just-  
> WHY CAN'T MY BABIES BE HAPPY?!  
> Shof op = Shut up  
> Nou mou = Enough/No more  
> Nami? = Got it?


End file.
